


Sanguine

by PhantomWriter



Series: In All the Right Ways [SamWena Week April 2020] [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, F/M, Foreplay, Queen of Hell Rowena MacLeod
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23511925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWriter/pseuds/PhantomWriter
Summary: The King and Queen of Hell have a special way of celebrating their milestone.For Samwena Week Day 1: Queen Rowena or King Sam
Relationships: Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester
Series: In All the Right Ways [SamWena Week April 2020] [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697872
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25
Collections: Samwena Week





	Sanguine

**Author's Note:**

> I ended up choosing both lol.

“My King, there’s another one.”

“Another,” Sam repeats with nary a trace of confusion. “Crossroads?”

“Er, yes, sire,” the reporting demon says. He’s looking down on the statistics on paper but Sam knows it’s just a way to avoid looking straight at him. “She’s been killing plenty of Crossroads this month.”

“How many this week?”

“Fifty, sire,” he answers weakly.

Sam hums, thoughtful. “That many, I see.”

The demon looks hesitant after a brief moment of silence without being dismissed. “Sire, if I may?” He takes Sam’s quietness as permission. “She... said that she wished to speak to you in person and said that she wouldn’t stop until you grant her an audience.”

Sam tilts his head with interest and a faint smile. “You’re dismissed.”

The demon looks startled to be dismissed alive (for now) and hastily rushes outside the throne room with relief.

Sam stands and adjusts his suit. His advisors will hold the fort for him in the meantime. It’s unusual for him to leave Hell, devoted as he is as the ruler of the place, though the situation isn’t unfamiliar to his subjects. If anything, he knows they’re finally breathing at ease knowing the threat to their meaningless lives is about to pass.

Sam can’t take the smirk off his face. There’s a visit he has to make.

* * *

Sam pauses and hears the door click. 

There's a thrum of trepidation upon seeing her waiting for him. She turns to him and raises her glass. "Scotch?"

Her hair moves with her, red curls tumbling down her shoulder gracefully. She smirks, red lips matching her tight attire. 

"You know what I'm here for, and it's not for the drink," Sam says, sauntering over the liquor stand and plucking the bottle. "Not this one, at least."

"You're here for me then?" Rowena hums. "Finally got the King's attention, didn’t I?"

"You did," Sam replies casually, turning his back on her without care as he pulls out Ruby's old knife from his jacket. 

It has been a while since he last used it and merely for special occasions. Such as this one. 

Rowena places down her glass. "Here to kill me, aren't you?" She removes a glove, revealing a painted palm and the back of her hand. "Can't have that, can we, Samuel?"

Sam's back is instantly against the wall, pinned. It's potent magic, Sam recognizes as he tests his fingers and wrists. She's using a brand of hex that is specifically effective for demons, and she amps the influence for Sam and Sam alone. It's no wonder that she can hunt his demons like rabbits. 

She's careful to approach him, and Sam waits for her without struggling against the magical bind. Curiously, he follows her with his eyes, follows the outline of her form accentuated by the weak source of light from the window. 

She has to tiptoe to reach his ear and whisper, “Caught you.”

Sam has to admire that she has the gall to gloat, but he admits that he revels at his current predicament. He’s trapped by a woman who is fire personified with all that unpredictability, fieriness, and strength. She’s a constant challenge, and to Sam, this is their dance that only the two of them know.

“Not yet,” he says amusedly, eyes darkening completely.

He pulls her to him with his mind, and with a swift twist, Sam is able to move and press her against the wall. He holds out her hands above her head forcefully, his thumb erasing the light paint on her skin.

“Strong magic,” he says, squeezing her wrists. “But not strong enough.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow, unfazed by the reversal of their position. “I beg to differ.” Her emerald cat-like eyes rakes from his head to toe. She glances down and titters at what she finds below. “I think the King is completely under my spell.”

Sam lets one hand free while his own moves to wrap around her thin neck. A small amount of force and he can break her neck, he thinks. He puts enough pressure for her to narrow her eyes dangerously, tantalizingly, at the gesture.

He lets out a small sigh of surrender—she isn’t wrong in her presumption.

They meet halfway in a crash of lips, and a part of Sam’s mind doesn’t know that he yearns for this for a week… for a much longer time while he’s down in Hell and the time moving slower topside. He cradles her neck, lets her slip down the wall, and grips her small waist. He hikes her dress further up her thigh as he carries her to his level. She wraps her arms around his neck, pushing against his chest and moaning on his tongue.

She pulls away biting at his lower lip. She stares at him, at his disheveled hair and the torn top buttons of his shirt underneath that crisp suit. She likes to admire her handiwork while Sam is more and more determined to make her breathless, to make her lose her control.

Sam brings Ruby’s knife from the floor to his hand, expertly using it to cut through the straps of her dress. The snap of her fingers banishes his top while the red dress slides down to her waist and exposes her breasts. She reaches for the zipper on the back and languidly pulls down the rest of her dress, laying herself unabashedly bare to him.

Wordlessly, she reaches for his hand and guides it over her abdomen. She doesn’t let go of his hand, and his touch lingers before he feels it.

A pulse.

Rowena observes his reaction and what she finds on his face makes her laugh. “With the amount of sex we usually have, I’m not surprised.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be either,” he murmurs. There’s an inexplicable tug inside his chest that he attributes to satisfaction. He tilts his head in realization. “This does explain the unusually high body count.”

She snorts. “Never too young for them to start.” She runs her nails on his shoulders and chest. “You started at twenty-four, and look how strong you are now.” She pauses to groan when his fingers creep upwards to tweak a nipple. “Think how it’ll be the case for them, a half-demon and half-witch who starts young on demon blood.”

Sam mouths the pale column of her neck, humming against her skin. He carries her over to the bed, and he’s seized by an odd surge of tenderness. Understandable, he muses; it’s the best news he heard for quite some time now, and it definitely makes up for her week of absence from his side.

“Miss me?” she asks when he lays his head down her naked stomach.

She cards her fingers through his hair, and Sam wants nothing but to spend the rest of the day with her. “Yes,” he answers, unhesitant.

“They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.” She sounds like the idea amuses her. Perhaps it does, given the irony of that statement. “Happy anniversary, my king.”

Sam brings the back of her hand to his lips. “Happy anniversary, my queen.”


End file.
